The Kingdom of Lifera stood as one of the oldest civilizations in HARAYA, flourishing since the dawn of time. Its endless fields shimmered beneath a sky of white and azure, while rivers of crystalline water breathed life into every corner of the realm. Nothing within Lifera ever withered. Life itself was the kingdom's greatest blessing.
Upon the Celestial Throne ruled Queen Airess, the Seventh Monarch of Lifera, a sovereign admired for her wisdom and unwavering compassion. Beside her stood Hengin, the Fourth Patriarch of the kingdom, whose strength and devotion had earned the respect of nobles and commoners alike.
Together, they were blessed with three children.
Their eldest son, Herin, carried the dignity expected of the future royal family.
Their second child, Heiress, possessed a gentle heart and a brilliant mind.
Their youngest, Heral, was born beneath a sky said to be favored by life itself.
Or so everyone believed.
Far beyond Lifera's radiant capital lay Babylom, the frozen palace of the Babaylan. Unlike the royal bloodlines of the great kingdoms, the Babaylan traced their lineage through ancient spiritual traditions, preserving knowledge older than most civilizations could remember.
Its ruler and heir was Icaraz.
Long before crowns and responsibilities defined their lives, Icaraz and Hengin had grown up together. To Hengin, their bond had always been that of brothers.
To Icaraz...
It had never been that simple.
When the heavens declared Hengin as the destined Patriarch of Queen Airess, Icaraz buried his feelings beneath duty. Yet when news spread that the queen was expecting the first child, the last fragments of his hope disappeared.
After years of isolation, he heard that Hengin and Airess are expecting their third child.
Icaraz was hurt, the isolation spoke to him, the thoughts of attachment never went away.
Unable to accept the future before him, Icaraz made a choice that would alter the fate of two kingdoms.
Through an ancient rite known only to the Babaylan, he bore a child of his own.
A son.
He named him Heraz.
On the day the royal child was to receive their Great Baptism, nobles, priests, and guardians gathered within the palace to witness the sacred ceremony.
While the celebration drew every eye toward the royal hall, Icaraz slipped into the protected chambers.
The guards never saw him.
A silent poison carried them into a deep slumber.
Within the nursery, two infants slept.
One was the youngest prince of Lifera.
The other was the newborn son of the Babaylan.
Icaraz stood motionless.
His hands trembled.
For a fleeting moment, guilt urged him to turn back.
Instead, he reached for the children.
When he left the palace, the future of HARAYA had already been rewritten.
No one noticed.
Not the queen.
Not the patriarch.
Not even the heavens.
The Prince of Lifera was no longer the Prince of Lifera.
And the child destined for the frozen halls of Babylom would grow beneath the warmth of a royal family that was never truly his.

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